Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Hard day. Winds over 50 mph most of the way. ^#*%ing tourists/skiers on the road. After all these years, still get satisfaction from doing a job most can't, or won't even try. Nice to hear the customer say, "Can't believe you came today".

Going back without the 4600 pound load was harder. Several, "Here, hold my beer. This could get interesting" moments.

Now back in the den with an adult beverage, warmed up tasty leftovers, and lots of your postings to read. Life is good.

All that nasty stuff needs a port to ship from. Oh no, not in MY backyard! I have my job; don’t see why we need more good paying jobs in our area, nosiree.

But, of course, it is all for protecting Mother Gaia; not for my selfish self interest. Plus, we have too many people. We need programs to encourage the surplus, who are not our types, to die off. Better get them disarmed, first.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

This is a snippet of family history a relative asked me to write. It may, or may not, be of interest to anyone else.

My late father was born in Sunbeam, CO., a spot on the map. When he entered the Army in WWII, his official home of record was a Post Office Box at Skull Creek, CO. That Post Office has been merged with Dinosaur, CO. Dinosaur will always be Artesia, CO to old timers. He was teased about both towns, and had a First Sergeant nickname him “Sunshine”.

Skull Creek was the site of a sheep/cattle war fight, supposedly, when cowboys stampeded a flock of sheep over a steep bluff. Family lore is some of the family “might” have been involved. In any case, the area got the name from the sheep skulls.

http://www.canyoncountrywilderness.org/skullcreek.htm

The extreme Northwest Corner of Colorado is known as Browns Park. The winters are milder than the rest of the area and many livestock owners let their horse roam free there to “winter”. Probably the largest single owner of horses in Colorado is the Sombrero Ranch, that stocks multiple dude ranch sites in the summer. Their spring roundup is a sought after adventure.

http://www.sombrero.com/custompages/horse_drive.asp

Damned if I would pay $2,000 to do that hard work (that as a youth I had to do for free).

The town of Maybell is part of the tradition.

http://www.maybellwomensclub.com/index.php

It is a foolish man that tangles with the Maybell Women’s Club. I’m related to a few. Nice ladies, mama bears under their genteel exteriors.

One of the better sources for the history of the region is by John Rolfe Burrows.

http://www.amazon.com/Where-Old-West-Stayed-Young/dp/B001R2E0XS

The area was home to various outlaws and other outcasts. One of the more notorious family’s were the Bassetts.

My father’s maternal grandfather operated a toll suspension bridge over the Yampa River at Sunbeam. Some of his descendants (and affiliates by marriage) still live in the area.

http://www.canyoncountrywilderness.org/skullcreek.htm

At one side of the river were the family home, road house, stable, and a small store. Family lore has it Butch Cassidy was a frequent visitor.

My father was born in the middle of twelve children. His father died when he was fifteen and his mother moved her children from the Golden, CO area (Wheat Ridge) back to Moffat County, and Maybell. She sold the Wheat Ridge property, including a sod house,

This was in the middle of the Great Depressions. My father’s older brothers and sisters had scattered leaving him the oldest son still at home. He worked at many different jobs, as did his mother, to keep the family going. At one point he delivered mail to the Browns Park area. In the summer, by a Model T., in the winter by horseback. The various ranchers, including the Bassetts, would give him a place to sleep and meals. These were hard, desperate times. One of his sisters contracted polio and was in a coma for three months. Still going strong today, she is a prominent business owner.

My father was a subsistence hunter. Seasons? Licenses? Hah! He was the best shot I’ve ever met. My sister and I could beat him on paper targets, but never taking game.

He had a gift for languages and math. Which I didn’t inherit, blast it. In India, in WWII, he learned several regional dialects. Many years later, he accompanied his sister and brother -in- law as guests aboard an Indian freighter. The crew as amazed he knew their language. His brother in law asked the captain about his level of fluency, to which the captain replied, “total fluency”.

During his life, he was a cowboy, logger, ran a gold mine dredge, a rancher, operated a dude ranch, guided hunters, was a section foreman for ten years on the old Denver and Rio Grande, worked in two coal fired electrical plants, delivered milk, was a shop steward while the Republican County Committeeman, was a machinist, and owned and operated a restaurant. Hard man to pigeonhole.

He died, at age 64, from congestive heart failure, brought on by undiagnosed obstructive sleep apnea.

His brother and sisters, and their children, all were, or are, workers. Not a slacker in the bunch. What needs to be said is we are not unique. In that corner of the world, our family is part of a hard working community of tough people. Traveling around the country, I see a lot of the same thing, at least in the rural areas.

So, if you’ve come this far, hope you weren’t bored. As to the relatives who will want to argue over details, well, hell, I would expect nothing less. As a clan, we make a herd of hogs on ice look like a precision drill team.

Seems I've picked up some new followers. Embarrassed to say my computer skills vs. Google are lacking. If you are a follower and have a blog, shoot me a link and I will add you.

I 'ppreciate you and thank you for your interest.

Some new material coming. My "part time" retirement supplement job is kicking my ass. Worked eleven of the last fourteen days and drove over 3,300 miles. In this economy can't understand how we have two vacant slots. Won't stick my nose in it; they might make me a manager. Hope the slots get filled soon.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Oshkosh, WI, around 1971, had the Kit Cat Club, home to the raunchiest shows I’ve ever seen, and the embarrassment of a runty racist.

We were attending the annual marketing meeting. Eisenhower dollars had just be released. The PR folks had a bunch that they wanted us to use as the “Official Meeting Money”. The goal was to see what impact our meeting had on the economy of Oshkosh.

Jiggle joints weren’t big in my life, but being one of the guys was. A group of us found ourselves at the joint. The women working there were intrigued with the Eisenhower dollars and set out to separate us from as many as possible.

One of our group was a runty little weasel who hated blacks. A fine, tall, and buxom Nubian lass was hustling “Carl” and I. We explained we weren’t interested, but pointed out the weasel. We explained he was newly married, missing his bride, and could use some attention. She walked over, grabbed the weasel’s against her ample bare (and sweaty) bosom, and gave him a little rub. His adverse reaction got him a long and vigorous facial; in fact, his feet were off the ground and his limbs were flailing about. After escaping, he decamped. Aside from the laughs, we benefited by not having him speak to us, unless a business necessity, for months. Of course, the lass earned herself a very large tip. Good times. And a good Wisconsin stripper story.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Job was picking up food processing equipment at a Colorado Front Range location and delivering it to Iowa - straight shot - no delays.

At the destination, encountered Twit #1, the security guard. She can be excused, about 18, dumb as box of rocks, but did have enough sense to call her supervisor.

The supervisor directed me to the proper location and said he would alert someone to meet me.

Now enters twit #2, a 50+ year old woman. Looking at her you could see, in the words of George MacDonald Fraser’s character, Flashman, “The fading beauty of a dying vulture”. Personality to match. You could readily see, she was a “grievance” monster pulling a lifelong grievance train.

The best way to deal with these types is to kill them with good cheer. Smiling, jovial, overflowing with good humor, etc. All an act; I’m a dour, grumpy old man but can play many roles.

Conversation goes something like this.

Twit. “Our receiving department isn’t open until 7:30.”

Me. “This is an emergency shipment. Someone needs these parts badly enough to have them driven 580 miles with no delays. I just need to have someone with a forklift unload it from my van.”

Me, jovial and all. “Here is the packing list. Who, here, do you think would use these kinds of parts”?

Long pause.

Twit. “Probably, Randy”.

Affable me. “Maybe you could call Randy”?

Twit disappears into her castle (with a locked door). About ten minutes later, Randy and a crew of four arrive. A forklift appears, the van is unloaded, and four men start unpacking the load while Randy signs for it. He has been waiting for me. Twit never reappears.

A lifetime habit is to always thank people for anything and everything. Stopping at the gate, thanked Twit #1, and then thanked her supervisor when he appeared.

He wanted to talk. Asked me about Twit #2. Seems she had ripped into him over the telephone when he called her. He was delighted to learn the shipment had been unloaded and signed for. Told me Twit #2 was widely regarded by the graveyard crew as a pain in the ass. Had some sort of “connection” that protected her.

Twit #2 probably will never understand I was helping her. A courier driver is like a taxi; the meter is running. I could just as easily pulled out of there and taken a four hour nap on their dime.
No matter how connected she is, knowledge the plant was down while the parts were available, plus a four hours standby charge, would have caused her to catch the rough edge of someone’s tongue.

People like Twit #2 really bother me. They are a cancer in any organization. During my years in management, I helped many of them out the door.

I never, not once, fired someone for a bad decision while trying to solve a problem. Talk to the, yes. Something along these lines. “I really appreciate you took action when ___________ came up. Should something like that happen again, you should consider ________”.

Never have shied away from making decisions. Some of them got me fired (more than once). That is ok; not a place I needed to be working. For sure it didn’t kill me.

The number of big rigs running I-80, day and night, good weather and bad, never ceases to amaze me. Nothing to see twenty or more at a time. Those people have my total respect. It is a very hard job that requires both skill and judgment.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

I do believe in fairness and hearing all sides to an issue. With that, here is something from Facebook.

https://www.facebook.com/#!/BigBoyBoulderElk

Here's a message to the haters! You know who you are, you trolls posting elk recipes for fun and calling us retarded:

We're not against mercy killings and mos...t of us aren't against hunting. The community is upset because nobody but that cop is saying that the animal was injured, conveniently after he hid the killing for two days. An eye witness to the killing who saw it just before (and after) it was killed said on video (see previous post) that "it was a healthy animal." So it's clear to most of us that he lied. Please don't get distracted by some of us who value animal rights or our candle light vigil Boulder-style sentimentality. We're a community worried about a crooked cop trying to get away with poaching an animal while being paid by the tax payers. The Police Chief is angry about this, as are we all. Many of us are elk hunters and eaters ourselves who just want equal treatment under the law. Most of all, we all want justice for Big Boy the elk!

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Now starting year three without television in my home. Don't miss it, not at all. Since I still travel frequently for business, I watch television, briefly, in motels. Still dislike the number of commercials. Think it is because I resist anyone trying to manipulate me.

Family and friends tell me there are alternatives. TiVo? That would require, gasp, reading instructions.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

So discouraged by the Lightbringer’s reelection, swore off politics. Then, Sandy Hook happened, and, once again, I am reminded why I keep involved.

The State senator from my district chairs the Appropriations Committee. I’ve always voted for her and contributed to her campaign. Don’t always agree with her politics, but have always found her to be fair minded. I think she and her husband are honest people. Certainly, their lifestyle (home, vehicles) isn’t extravagant. Honesty and integrity are more important, to me, than political ideology (plus her recent opponent is a piece of work).

I copied all fourteen pages and sent it to my Senator with a brief cover letter asking her to take the time to read it. Since she knows me. I think she will read it. Will it do any good? I don’t know. Certainly, won’t do any harm.

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About Me

Semi retired road warrior, car salesman, occasional repo man. Father of three fine sons. Once a Blue Dog Democrat. Once a soldier; once a pilot. Rolling along life's highway proving there is no fool like an old fool.